


nemesis

by renmasas



Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, M/M, Mafia AU, Mixed feelings, Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-31 16:00:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8584759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renmasas/pseuds/renmasas
Summary: "It is a man's own mind, not his enemy or foe, that lures him to evil ways."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Fifteen years ago, the Jinguji family extended their empire by crushing smaller ones on their way. A small yet very potent spirits dealer - the Hijirikawa family - was wiped out for having crossed the amnesty settled with the Jingujis by secretively selling their alcohol to others. At the time, Masato was too young to understand how it all came to this, to understand why he had no family to live with, nor how he ended up clutching for a reason to live, a revenge to accomplish.

            A ball is the perfect footing for meeting people. Whether you want to do business, to find yourself a partner, to build solid friendships, you would most likely attend one. Such was the reason of why Ren Jinguji, famous politician and head of the Jinguji family, waltzed his way through the sea of people, greeting every and each one of them with his signature smile.           

            The Jingujis were one of the two last ruling families, gaining power through politics and eradicating every and each one that went against them. That is, when it was under the reign of Ren’s father. Having succeeded as the don, the violence was not as explicit anymore. Ren had forged strong alliances, but had obviously inherited enemies from his father’s doings as well.

             Let us not forget how a ball is also the perfect footing for murder. Such was the reason of why Masato was tiding up his hair and suit, patting his chest to make sure the gun was barely visible. He had been doing this job for some time now, there was always new tricks to learn, attitudes to polish. Ren knew someone was after him, but every time he had caught Masato, the politician had let him go, against all objections. The memory of childhood friends growing more and more vivid in Masato's mind, as it seemed to have vanished from Ren's. The assassin grew angrier and so did his attempts, from small, such as poisoning, to larger ones, such as fire accidents.

            This time, however, he hoped to succeed, as he pointed the gun to Ren’s head after having infiltrated the private room.

            “We meet again,” Ren’s voice was smooth and without an ounce of concern, lazily raising his arms as a form of non-protest.

            “I wish we had not,” Masato bit back, voice stern at the politician’s reaction. “It’s over, Ren Jin—”

            “Do you not find it funny how you know my name, but I do not know yours?”

            The sly talk had caught Masato off guard. It was the first time both of them were alone in a room, no body guards in sight. He had not expected for Ren to remember him, but deep within him, he hoped for his name to be called.

            “It won’t matter after I have done my job.”

            Reaching back swiftly, Ren took the hand that held the gun firmly, turning around and now facing the assassin. His hold on his wrist was too strong for Masato to be able to bend his index and fire.

            “First time shooting? The way your blood is pumping, it must be.”

            “Shut up,” Masato muttered, trying to free himself.

            “Jackpot,” Ren grinned and chuckled, as the other’s face grew redder in both shame and anger. “You’re an interesting guy who has surprisingly not given up yet. Why?”

            Masato stood in silence.

            “What is your name?”

            No words dared to come out from Masato’s mouth.

            So Ren took action, pulling the younger one closer and taking the gun out of the startled man’s hand. His hand reached for Masato’s chin, as he pressed his forehead against the other’s.

            “I could kill you at this very moment, yet I am only asking for your name,” the red haired muttered in a hot yet frightening breath, bright blue eyes staring deep into Masato’s pools.

            “Masato, from the Hijirikawa family,” he replied, heart beating erratically.

            “Masato… from the Hijirikawa family…” Ren repeated to himself, trying to figure out where he had heard the name. “Doesn’t ring a bell. Why are you after me?”

            In frustration and anger, Masato’s palm reflexively escaped Ren’s hold and landed on the other’s cheek, leaving a bright red shadow in its wake. The younger man scoffed, not believing that even after all these years, the name of his family was washed oud, to the point where even the Jinguji before him was clueless. But, before he knew it, Ren had pinned him against the wall, tip of the gun pressing forcefully against the underside of his jaw. Apparent drops of sweat could be noticed on the corner of Masato’s face, as he feared the worst. Maybe he was too young for all of this – it was rough to compete with someone who was more than ten years older than he was, and the head of a mafia family, above all.

            Masato’s mind ran too fast with to take notice of how Ren had latched his lips closer and closer to his ear.

            “You’re too stubborn for someone with his life on the line, Hijirikawa,” Ren whispered, the cold metal from the gun running down Masato’s throat. “You’re too young and too attractive for me to kill you, I’d feel bad for doing so.” The politician’s words were sensual but carried poison at the tip of his tongue – Ren, himself, knew he was having a little too much fun by enraging the assassin in front of him. Taking the gun with him, the ginger pulled himself away.

            Masato’s eyes looked at the scene before him, his mind slowly processing Ren’s heartless words. He felt his _raison d’être_ being diminished and forgiven for simply being _good-looking_ , and this was not the first and only time it had happened. He abruptly gripped the collar of the other’s shirt, bringing him back and close to him. Ren was quite taken aback at the younger’s expression: heavy breathing, eyes watery yet full of rage, teeth clenching, as his shaking fist clutched the ginger for a reason to live. Ren didn’t remember the man nor his history and he couldn’t help but wonder what had his family done for such a thing to be happening. He considered himself the opposite of his father and was a tad young at the time to understand the ‘sacrifices’ (as the family would still call it) his father had gone through to protect their reign. But before all of that, had he ever crossed paths with the younger man before him?

            Before he noticed, his face went from pure slyness to a form of confusion, worry even – traits a don should not have. Alas, Ren had ascended to the throne too early. Masato’s face still held anger but his brows were not as furrowed, his grip not as strong. The young man was tired of having pursued, battled, angered himself for something that was not _there_ anymore – Ren’s father had passed away, and the man before him did nothing but carry an unfortunate legacy. His _raison d’être_ had ceased to exist before this fight had even started.

            Ren cupped Masato’s hand with his own, tightly as his cerulean eyes pierced the hazed gaze in front of him. The gun was tossed aside – violence was not needed in this case, and Ren abided by that thought. His force pinned Masato’s hand against the wall, not too forcefully but still allowing him to control the situation, as well as the still angered, frustrated man. The ginger approached his ear once again, this time, poison not in sight.

            “In any other context, one could say you have fallen for me, Hijirikawa. How long have you watched my steps, my doings?”

            Silence, as Masato pursed his lips tightly shut.

            Undoing the first button of the assassin’s shirt, Ren continued. “There are thin lines between revenge, obsession and love. Which ones have you crossed, _erased_ after so many years?” He murmured, popping another button. “Is this the reason of why you’re not stopping me?”

            Startled, confused, Masato was paralyzed before Ren, not understanding why his body ceased to move, repel, fight. Never had the dark haired one thought of his enemy in such a way and despite it all, he regretfully remembered the many times Ren has crossed his mind as elegantly, beautifully dangerous.

            His haze faded away as Ren’s free hand caressed the side of Masato’s delicate face. “Have you thought of me, _your sworn enemy_ , in the darkest yet blissful hours of the night, Hijirikawa?” The ginger took a riskier move – hand sliding from his cheek down until it tucked itself between the shirt and the suit. His palm laid flat on the other’s chest, fully feeling the area, before reaching for his side and closing the distance between their bodies.

            Ren peeked to the side, to observe Masato’s expression. What he did not expect was the way the assassin gripped once again his shirt, this time, however, to clash their lips together, completely startling the don. The kiss was furious, frustration blossoming through Masato’s lips. Yet, Ren welcomed it just as strongly, bewitched by the stranger in front of him, as he pushed and met Masato’s tongue in a violently sensual dance.

            It wasn’t too long for the older one to quickly discard Masato’s blazer and shirt, as well as his own, leaving both of their chests bare. Their incessant kissing came to a halt, completely out of breath, hair disheveled. If there was room for Masato to ponder a bit more about what was going on, the haze and heat between him and Ren clouded his sight and made it impossible to think of it. Not an ounce of thought could have been given to regrets now – not when they both gripped at each other’s hair, only the light of their eyes brightening the dim room.

            “Your chest is sensitive. Wouldn’t have expected that from someone like you.” Ren accentuated most of his words by trailing kisses and bites along the column of his neck, lowering himself until he latched onto the other’s nipple. Masato clawed tightly Ren’s hair for support, feeling the front of his trousers growing tighter and tighter at every lap of the don’s tongue against him. He hissed, arched his back, tightly shut his eyes, yet refused to let out his voice. Ren’s warm digits found their way to both of Masato’s perked buds, as his mouth traveled south, stopping right at the hem of the assassin’s pants.

            Masato attempted at reaching for something tucked in the back of his pants but failed, as Ren was too quick to notice the sharp knife purposefully hidden there. “I wonder when will you ever stop.”

            The assassin just scoffed in response.

            Taking the knife from Masato’s shaky hands, Ren tossed it aside and roughly pulled the other through the edge of his pants. A visible wet spot could be seen on the front of Masato’s trousers. “You’re leaking and trembling, and yet you refuse to talk to me. How would it be if I left you right here and now?” The politician’s voice was fierce and confident – bargaining was his speciality after all.

            However, Masato did not give in and, instead, just furrowed his brows in discontentment. Ren shrugged and got up, tying his hair back before fiercely looking at him. “Put your mouth to good use and suck me off then, Hijirikawa,” he ordered, and even though startled, Masato complied. Between fear, arousal, obsession, Masato was lost and could only hold on tightly to the very present. The reason of why his voice refused to escape his throat, as much as he wanted to protest, was because he _himself_ was confused, in denial, enchanted by the nemesis in front of him.

            Masato lowered himself onto his knees, guiding Ren’s free hands to his own hair as he caressed the front of the other’s pants with his nose, eyes locking sights all the while. The ginger felt himself harden as the assassin’s deft finger undid his pants and pulled them down together with his underwear, leaving Ren’s cock completely exposed. Masato didn’t have many experiences with men, so its girth surprised him a bit.

            Taking his own shaft on his hand, Ren teased the tip on the corner of Masato’s mouth. “Can you even take it, Hijirikawa?” He kept challenging, the tip now pressing against those plump lips. Ren guided himself inside of Masato’s warm mouth, himself trembling at the sensation of the other’s tongue promptly licking the head.

            Although the younger one attempted at being quieter, his lower half rustled, seeking for friction, letting out muffled noises. With the eyes of an eagle, Ren had noticed how Masato wouldn’t stop moving, shuffling, and with the bridge of his foot, he teased the bulge between the other’s legs. In reflex, Masato winced, closing his eyes tightly and inserted more of Ren’s length inside, all the while discreetly and slowly reaching for his member.

            With his own foot, Ren dissed the approaching hand and then pressed even harder against his erection. “Now, now. I didn’t allow you to do that, did I?” The don had sternly reproached him, pulling his hair for their eyes to meet. “Answer me.”

            Masato, still, did not talk, but instead placed his hands on Ren’s thighs to support himself as he let the other’s members pop out of his mouth, only to lick its length with a dubious care, love. His own cheeks were reddening from the heat, contrasting with the pristine paleness of his skin and his midnight blue eyes – and Ren was in awe, wanting to conquer and ruin the man in front of him. It was as if both of them followed instincts, as if they refused the context surrounding them.

            One of Masato’s hand took the politician’s girth, giving it a few strokes, feeling it pulse under his own palm. Masato sucked at the tip, his tongue wrapping itself around it, before bringing more and more length into his mouth. He felt a little intimidated, having not done such a thing in a long time, and Ren’s size wasn’t helping on that occasion. He hollowed his cheeks and bobbed his head up and down, only half way through. Almost reactively, as Masato’s tongue felt the saltiness of Ren’s pre-come oozing, his underwear became increasingly wetter. Maybe he would not have felt it, if it weren’t for the older men’s foot toying with his bulge.

            “You act quite like a slut for an assassin,” Ren teased, smirking as he watched Masato become slowly more rattled, the bridge of his foot running the length of the tent between the other’s legs. “But _god_ , your mouth is heavenly for fucking.”

            The ginger took a handful of Masato’s hair with both of his hands, putting his own foot at rest. Pulling a little harder, both of their blue eyes met, a devilish grin taunting at the corner of Ren’s lips, before he thrusted forward, shoving his cock deeper. And Masato let him – he let him use his head for his own will, for his own pleasure, throwing away every single ounce of dignity he had out of fear, out of obsession. Ren’s thumb caressed the side of Masato’s lips, feeling his length going in and out, the other’s throat trying its best to accommodate it. All the while, the younger’s legs trembled in need to be touched, and his sucking and licking became sloppier, messier. He sought for release, but the menacing man in front of him wouldn’t let him have any – any but by sucking alone.

            Masato himself was surprised once Ren bottomed out, feeling the back of his throat and his jaw hurting, masked by the amount of pleasure he was feeling. He contracted his column, tongue caressing the underside of Ren’s cock to get the most of him. Though hazy and in trance, the assassin took a second to admire Ren’s reaction – even if he tried to put a Casanova face on, it was clear how Ren himself was restless, panting as his eyes refused to close to look at the man on his knees.

            “Fuck, _fuck_ ,” Ren cursed under his breath, pulling his cock out of Masato’s pliant, warm mouth as he started to stroke it fast, seeking for release. “Show me how much you want it, Hijirikawa. Show me how much you’ve wanted this.”

            As if instantly, Masato’s entire core shattered, any trace of reasoning disappeared as he closed his eyes shut and slacked his jaw, reaching his climax right there and then. Ren looked at the entire situation unfold before his own eyes and couldn’t bear to hold any longer. Stroking his cock in urgency, he pulled Masato closer to him by his hair, muttering “Good boy,” as he came on the other’s face, fluid tainting the slightly swollen and reddened skin. Come dripped on Masato’s face, sliding across his skin, clinging onto his lashes, lips, _everywhere_ , and the ginger felt an uncanny amount of satisfaction out of it.

            Their hearts beat fast, their entire body showing signs of sweat and their breaths being cut short from the adrenaline still running through their blood. However, Masato’s consciousness was quick to come back, as his cheeks were becoming red out of embarrassment. Too many feelings mingled together and the younger one couldn’t pin point what he felt – just a sudden, immense feeling of being lost, as he failed his own _raison d’être_.

            He heard faint voices in the back, rustling of clothes and door openings, but he didn’t dare to look, to accept the reality of what just happened being unveiled.

            “Hey,” Ren’s voice was menacing, still, yet it evaporated as Masato realised that the man was crouched before him, taking him by the chin so their eyes could meet once again. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, the don wiped the mess from Masato’s face. It wasn’t a gentle gesture, but it wasn’t as aggressive either. “I have a deal.”

            Before he could follow up on his idea, a knock on the door came and the ginger got up to meet with the stranger. Not a single word was exchanged, only a brand new smoking set was handed to Ren, and then handed to Masato. The latter took it, a little slow onto realizing why, and promptly changed himself silently. The clothes were a little big – he had guessed they were from Ren, since Masato’s body was slimmer, younger. When having to adjust the tie, Ren took it from Masato’s hands and did it himself.

            “What was… your deal?”

            Masato’s voice took him by surprise, since it hadn’t come out for quite some time. It was raspy, a little tired, insecure, yet curious. Ren smirked and chuckled to himself, finishing tying the tie, before pulling the younger one closer to him, reaching for his ear. He made sure his voice was enticing, warmly inviting and coldly stern, at which Masato shivered, listening to his name after so long.

            “Come work for me, Masato.”   

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! Long time no see!!
> 
> It's be quite a while eh? I've been busy with school and work ;;
> 
> Alright let's get to the ✧・ﾟ:* FIC NOTES*:・ﾟ✧:  
> \- Ren is 35 and Masato is 22! There is quite an age gap compared to the canon (obviously) and to most of my fics. The reason of why I wanted this was to have Masato still acting a little immaturely and Ren having grown a little bit more.  
> \- Ren's father passed away and Ren had to fill the don position when he was still young (22, Masato's age actually!).  
> \- Masato's family was killed when he was only 7. Before that, Ren and Masato knew each other and were friends, but clueless to all the environment surrounding them. (They were not best friends like the canon though, hence why Ren couldn't even remember him.)  
> \- Contrary to his father, Ren is trying to root the Jinguji family within the society through politics, using less and less violence as possible, since he believes it's obsolete if you have enough power and manipulation.  
> \- There's too much plot for something that was supposed to be a PWP.  
> \- Oh, it's based on the anime 91Days! If you haven't watched, I definitely recommend it.  
> \- I genuinely considered on tagging it as dubcon because Masato's feelings aren't explicit. He doesn't refuse the approach but he's still quite startled and in fear. There's some adoration, twisted love in the middle. It's a very, very confusing feeling because it's been haunting him for years. Do let me know your thoughts. If it's triggering, I'll absolutely tag it.  
> \- There might be a continuation to it, I just have to find time orz
> 
> On another note, I have almost finished the second chapter of primo quarto! It's on its way, and new characters will start showing up! I'm quite excited since I take that fic to heart♡
> 
> Thank you to my beloved [sister](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nakigaharas/pseuds/Nakigaharas) for helping me out throughout the fic!!! ♡
> 
> Please do leaves kudos and comments if you can! ;u; (Constructive comments are very, very welcome.) 
> 
> And you can also follow me on twitter @berskur to talk more about renmasas!
> 
> With love,
> 
> Your self-proclaimed renmasa queen♡


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